Champagne Dreams
by TheDreamyOne
Summary: *completed!*Antoine's journal reveals his desire for a change in his life. (Deuce Bigalow:Male Gigolo)
1. Default Chapter

Title:                Champagne Dreams

Author:             TheDreamyOne

Feedback:       Like it? Hate it?  Yes I need to know...**review please**!

Archive:           Please ask

Type:               Romance

Rating:             PG-13

Summary:        Antoine's journal reveals his desire for a change in his life.

Disclaimer:       DB:MG is the property of Touchstone pictures, Happy Madison Productions.  No infringements intended.

Author's Note:  For some unknown reason I can't get this to upload properly.  The second and third paragraphs should be italicized.  Also the third paragraph from the end should also be italicized.      

_*****_

Sitting down at the large mahogany desk that occupied his spacious home office, he gingerly picked up the pen that lay neatly across his journal.  He had started keeping it some weeks ago, shortly after he had gotten out of jail after Deuce had destroyed his life.  Opening the journal, he flipped to the next open page.

Heard from Deuce yesterday.  I still find it strange that it was he who testified on my behalf.  He and his friends had managed to get my ass out of trouble, much the same way they had gotten him out of trouble.  I had to laugh when he asked if I was still in the man-whore business.  Such a term, that was, but an apt one, none-the-less.  No, I told him.  I was through with that. 

            He wanted to know what made me decide to move to Paris.  I laughed and told him I have always had an apartment here.  It is like a part of me, this city.  Here I can be just Antoine, the son of Pierre Laconte, wine producer and owner of one of the largest vineyards in France.  Here I have peace; here I am whole.  

_            My life in America was frivolous, yes.  But, it paid for the things I thought I needed to make my life complete.  Now, back home, I have discovered just how empty my life has been.  Countless number of women paid me to bed them.  I was never want for companionship and I learned ways to pleasure a woman so that she would pay me enormous amounts of money for return visits.  It was empty and meaningless, no matter how beautiful they were.  It was ugly, and I strive now to put it behind me._

_            Today I found myself at the Louvre.  I spent a few leisurely hours studying the 17th Century France sculptures that are displayed within the museum.  Toward the end of my visit, I made my way to the "Capitves" sculpture by Martin Van den Bogaert.  An exquisitly painful bronze piece.  It depicts several men who represented the nations defeated at the Peace of Nimègue in 1679.  _

_            That was when I saw her, a rather inhibited young woman, perhaps all of twenty-eight years of age.  She dressed rather plainly in a light blue sundress and white sandals.  Blonde hair, oh, it was the color of wheat at the time of harvest.  And long, so very long.  She wore it plaited at the back of her neck and braided.  The braid touched the small of her back.  _

_            I so wanted to talk to her, this plain young woman.  It fascinates me that there are still women in this world who do not cover themselves with makeup.  Ah, but I thought I might frighten her away; she appeared so timid.  So, I watched her as she studied the sculpture.  Her every move was graceful and deliberate._

_            Did I mention she was an artist of sorts herself?  No?  It became apparent when she pulled out a large sketchpad from her bag and a few charcoal pencils.  I found I could not stop myself from stealing away behind her and inching closer as the minutes ticked by so that I might see her work.  She is very good, I tell you.  She captured the essence of the piece majestically.  In her drawing you saw fear, desperation, resignation and despondency.  Ah, I am no professor of the Arts, that is just my opinion.  _

            So, as I moved closer, I was able to see her face more clearly.  Oh, only just a bit from the side, because I was behind her.  Her skin is flawless and her cheekbones are high and prominent, those that a fashion model might kill for.  I smile now, thinking that I thought her plain.  Perhaps I should rethink that.  And I shall, tomorrow. 

_            Tomorrow I hope to catch sight of this woman again because she did not finish her lovely drawing and whispered to the sculpture that she would be back to see it the next day.  Tomorrow.  So, until tomorrow..._

Antoine slowly closed the cover of his journal and rested the pen diagonally on top.  With deliberate care, he readied himself for bed and slid between the sheets of his large bed.  To sleep, perhaps to dream, he thought as his head hit the pillow and his eyes slid shut.  Dreams of plains of wheat...

*****

To be continued...


	2. The Encounter

Author's Note:  Oh, wow!  The response was far better than I imagined and I thank you all for taking time out of your lives to read Antoine's thoughts and dreams.  I'll do my best not to disappoint you. :)

*****

            Returning to his desk as the evening drew to a close, Antoine lifted the pen from the cover and flipped open his journal to the last entry.  He had much to tell this night.

_            The early part of the day began rather unpleasantly.  I received a visit from my father shortly after breakfast.  He insists it is time I become more involved in the family business.  Although, in the past, I never had any desire to throw myself into the wine business, lately the thought has had some appeal.  Perhaps my business education was worth the time, after all.  Still, I don't think I am ready to leave the city and venture into the wine country._

_            Of course, there was the familiar argument of how my life has been such a waste and what a disappointment I have been, especially to my mother.  It goes along with becoming a gigolo, I suppose.  The exploitation of women and all that line of lecture she often scolds me with.  I can't say I don't understand her feelings.  I'm sure it wasn't what she had in mind for her only son when she gave birth to me.  'Oh yes, I do so hope my son grows up to sell himself to women.'  Right.    _

_So, that was the extent of Father's visit.  Yes, there was the 'Son, you know we love you' moment, don't get me wrong.  No matter what, the Laconte's have great affection for one another.  _

_            You are wondering...did I go by the Louvre today?  But, of course, I did.  I mentioned yesterday I would be going back.  Yes, the young woman was there.  She was busily sketching the statue from her perch on the nearby bench by the time I arrived.  Watching her from a distance, I became entranced.  Today she wore a pair of black jeans that clung nicely to her body.  Not too tight, but not baggy either.  The peach tank top she wore was cropped and reached the middle of her stomach.  The milky tone of her skin set my mind to wandering and I don't think I've ever wanted to touch someone so badly in my life.  Of course, that was impossible; I would surely send her running for the authorities if I attempted to touch the soft flesh of her abdomen._

_            Her hair hung loosely down her back in long curls.  Every few moments she would reach up and tuck it behind her right ear as she sketched.  Her concentration never wavered from the object in front of her.  I wondered to myself, what would it take to break her concentration?   _

_            So, with devilish intent, I stood in front of the statue, positioning myself between her and the object she so diligently worked at capturing on paper.  My back was to her, so I could not say what look appeared on her delicate face.  I could hear the low-keyed attempts at getting my attention, but I would not be easily deterred from my goal.  That being the goal of meeting the young woman.  A chance to see her face-to-face to judge how wrong I know I was to first think her plain.    _

_            She finally gave up trying to get my attention and I could hear her approach me from behind.  I did my best to feign intense interest in the statue and all the while I was willing myself not to turn around before she made the first move.  Finally, after still not acknowledging her quiet attempts to gain my attention, I felt just the slightest touch when she lightly tapped my shoulder.  _

_            I turned first just my head and then my entire body to address her.  A timid smile appeared on her lips when she looked upon me for the first time.  Had I ever seen lips that begged to be kissed before?  Not like those of this young woman.  Full and sensual, it took all my self-control to keep myself from dipping my head to drink the promise of the sweetest nectar from the well of her luscious mouth.  And I think I was struck speechless by the exquisite beauty of her amethyst eyes that were set apart perfectly by her small perky nose.  It was some moments before I regained my senses and acknowledged her soft "excuse me"._

_            She went on to explain that she was sketching the sculpture I was standing before and would I mind moving off to the side so as not to block her view?  She spoke softly, not wishing to offend or upset.  Her voice carried a gentle lilt.  If you could imagine floating on a soft, velvety white cloud...that is the effect her voice had on me.  _

_I do think I could listen to her for eternity without feeling trapped as most women make me feel.   The unnatural whining and demanding tones from the women I've escorted were enough to drive me insane, at times.  I often found myself reciting the "think of all the money" mantra repeatedly in my head just to get through the hours with them.  Either that or I would have my way with them [more likely they had their way with me] to the point of exhaustion just to keep them quiet.  It is difficult to decide, at times, just whom was playing whom.  _

_Back to more pleasant subjects.  Hoping to distract her and keep her talking for more than two minutes, I remarked that she did not sound French and asked where she was from.  She became shy and her cheeks turned the sweetest shade of pink.  More than likely, she had been expecting me to shrug her off and be on my way.  She had no idea the way she could affect a man.  That only added to her subtle beauty._

_            Where was I?  Oh...she finally managed to tell me she was from the United States.  She said, what was it?  A little piss-ant place in Florida.  Kissimmee.  She joked that no, you don't pronounce it Kiss-ah-me, but Ka-simm-ee.  She told me she was here in Paris on an extended vacation and would be returning to the States in a month.  I felt all at once quite saddened by that news.  _

_            She frowned at me then, just a slight crease developed on her flawless brow.  She informed me that I had been somewhat impolite by asking her a personal question without even so much as giving her my name.  I felt the smile on my lips widen into a grin as I told her my name.  The smile I received in return was dazzling and lit her entire face and I felt my breath catch in my throat.  And when she repeated my name, only to call me "Monsieur Laconte", the sound of my name on her lips was like a velvety caress to my ears.  She then told me her name.  Leandra Marsales.  A beautiful name for a beautiful spirit.  When I commented on its beauty she smiled softly and whispered that her friends called her Andi and the blush reappeared on her cheeks.  My first instinct was to lean down [did I mention she was but 5'5"?] and kiss the soft pinkness of her cheeks.  I do not know just how long I can keep myself from resisting temptation.  And she is that, but oh, so much more._

_            I then asked her if I might see what she was working on.  She hesitated for a moment and seemed very shy about showing her work, but she nodded and slipped her hand into the crook of my arm.  I covered her hand gently with my own free hand as we walked back to the bench she had been working from.  The skin on the back of her hand felt like silk to the touch, but I made no overtures toward her.  I think she would have frightened easily._

_            She gasped suddenly when we neared the area she had been working and her free hand flew to her mouth in astonishment.  Perhaps it was horror at what she found there.  Her belongings were missing.  More specifically, her portfolio/bag that contained her ID, some cash and the keys to her apartment were gone.  Her sketchbook lay on the ground and her charcoal pencils were strewn about.  _

_I bade her to stay put while I went in search of the museum's detective.  Riddled with guilt, I ran back to Leandra with the detective in tow.  I feel the guilt because if I had not distracted her from her task, she would not have left her belongings unattended while she attempted to move me from her path.  It was my fault her things had been stolen.  I feel so ashamed._

_After Leandra explained what was missing and gave her personal information to the detective, she thanked me [do you believe that? thanked me for helping to have her belongings stolen] for staying with her while she talked to the detective.  She held her hand out and offered a goodbye.  My hand closed around hers softly; her touch was electric.  I longed to know the feel of her touch over my entire body.  Again, my thoughts wander in a lustful direction.  And yet, it does not feel exactly like lust.  It is difficult to explain for it is something I have never felt before._

_I offered to take her to her apartment to retrieve her passport and then take her to the United States Embassy to obtain help in replacing her traveler's checks and replacing her ID.  I wasn't at all surprised when she hesitated.  After all, I am but a stranger to her.  It was then that the detective came to my aide.  He informed her that he knew my parents well and if she was in need of assistance, he would vouch for my sincerity in wishing to help.  Again, I was blessed with her smile.  This one was small, tinged with the stress of her ordeal, but nonetheless beautiful.  She accepted my offer and we were on our way to her apartment.  _

_While we drove in silence, a silence that was not uncomfortable, I heard her stomach rumble with hunger.  I glanced at her and could feel the amused smiled that danced on my lips.  When she giggled shyly, I was again struck by just how innocent she seemed.  I then asked her if she would care to stop along the way for coffee and croissant.  She accepted readily.  This pleased me more than I can tell you.  It meant just that much more time I could spend trying to get to know her._

_We talked over coffee for what seemed minutes but turned out to be hours.  She was lovely, humorous and so very easy to talk to.  I found myself opening up to her like no other.  Secret fears and loves poured from my lips unchecked and she drank it in gladly, as if her very life depended on my words.  It was difficult to end the time at the small café, but all good things must come to an end, eh?_

_My guilt grew tenfold when we reached her apartment.  She was devastated when we came upon the carnage.  Her place had been ransacked.  The authorities decided it was more than likely done by the same thief who stole her portfolio and ID. Again, I felt like a heel.  If I had not suggested we stop for a bite to eat, we might have prevented the further destruction of her belongings.  I am relieved to tell that her passport remained in her dresser.  _

_After the authorities had finished, I took her to the Embassy to take care of her monetary needs, as well as apply for a duplicate ID.  Upon leaving the Embassy she admitted in a very small and tired voice that she feared staying at the tiny apartment.  She had little that a thief would want, but until the locks were changed she felt unsafe.  _

_Here I tell you that my heart was torn.  All that happened to her was a result of my selfishness and I wish to make it right.  However, I foolishly invited her to stay at my apartment.  How idiotic was that?  She is much too much of a lady to stay at a stranger's apartment.  I then drove her to a reputable hotel and secured a room for her.  I did not make the mistake of attempting to go to her room or even suggesting it.  Instead, I walked her across the street to a local boutique and insisted she pick out what items she would need for her stay at the hotel that evening.  She thanked me unendingly as we walked back to the hotel.  I assured her there was no need and quietly said goodbye to her at the elevator.  She surprised me._

_She stood on tiptoe and with one hand on my shoulder she gently pressed her lips to my cheek.  She said she was thankful for such a kind man to come into her life at a time when she needed a friend.  I assured her it was my pleasure and returned the gesture and kissed her cheek.  She turns the most amazing shades of red when she becomes embarrassed or flustered.  And then she touched my cheek softly before backing into the elevator.  I watched as the doors closed, blocking her from my view.  Her eyes held mine for a time before she disappeared.  I feel like a cad, but I do believe she likes me.  I can't say that doesn't please me.  It does.  _

_Tomorrow the locks of her apartment shall be fixed.  I promised to pick her up in the morning and take her home.  I wonder if she will wish to see me after this episode is over or if she will simply wish that I would go away.  _

_Again...'til tomorrow._

Closing the journal and laying the pen calmly atop the closed book, Antoine settled in for the night.  His mind worked to come up with scenarios that would keep him in Leandra's life.  He closed his eyes and willed sleep to come.  He would deal with it tomorrow.

While he slept, Antoine had come up with an idea to keep Leandra in his life a while longer.  That is, if both parties agreed.  He reached for the telephone.

*****


	3. Discoveries

*****

 Resting back against the headboard of his bed, Antoine picked up his journal and his favorite pen.  Another day had come to a close and he hoped he could remember everything that had happened.

_After checking to make sure the locksmith had indeed changed Leandra's locks and retrieved the keys for her, I made my way to her hotel.  I asked the Concierge to call her room to let her know a car had arrived to take her home.  I saw her as she emerged from the elevator.  She seemed a bit despondent as she made her way through the lobby until she spotted me in the waiting area.  Her face visibly changed as a contented look replaced the shadowed sadness.  She hurried to me as if a sudden weight had been lifted and stopped quickly when she reached me, nearly stumbling into me before she caught herself.  _

_I asked her why she seemed a bit anxious when I first saw her as she exited the elevator.  She blushed [again, it was quite endearing] and admitted she was a bit hurt when the Concierge called and said a car was waiting for her.  She thought I had blown her off or something, she said.  If only she knew that was the furthest thing from my mind.  In fact, I had devised a way to keep her in my company for a bit longer.  If she agreed._

_I picked up her bag and took her to my car.  She commented that it was lovely, if not extravagant.  I felt that twinge of embarrassment for my shallow tendencies, but I do appreciate beautiful things.  That's not something that just goes away.  So, yes, my silver Porsche is an extravagance, and one I would give up if it were asked of me...by the right person.  I stopped by a small outdoor cafe and ordered a breakfast crepe for us.  As we ate, I slid her the keys to her apartment across the table.  She thanked me again, smiling brightly.  My guilt was too much for me, I could pretend no longer._

_Before I could lose my courage, I told her how guilty I felt that her things were stolen while I had her distracted at the Louvre and then when I insisted we stop for something to eat instead of heading directly to her apartment allowing the thieves an opportunity to ransack it.  You would not believe [perhaps you would] just how sweet she was when she reached across the table and covered my hand with hers.  She insisted it was not my fault and no one could have predicted that the thieves would go to her apartment.  She also insisted it was her own stupidity that caused her to leave her bag unattended.  _

_Her touch was mind-blowing. I almost forgot what I was confessing; I could think of nothing but the feel of her hand covering mine.  What would she do if I leaned across the table and kissed her luscious mouth?  I can hardly keep from thinking of it...and how sweet she must taste.  Patience, I tell myself.  _

_I then folded her fingers into my hand and confessed that I had distracted her purposefully.  She was shocked I would do so.  I was thrilled she didn't pull away from me.  Softly I caressed the back of her hand with my thumb as I explained that I had become entranced while I watched her work and wanted to meet her.  It was amazing, watching the blush appear on her cheeks.  Still she did not pull her hand away and I took that as a good sign.  She thought me crazy that I would intentionally distract her so that I could meet her.  She really has no idea how beautiful she is.  A beauty that is easily overlooked at a glance, but if you take the time, you will find it in every part of her.  Her manners, her voice, her breathtaking eyes, the color and texture of her hair, her flawless skin that is left natural and uncovered by makeup, her pert little nose and her lips...those full, enticing lips._

_After breakfast, I took her to her apartment.  She gasped in surprise when she found it in complete order and asked if I had anything to do with it.  I smiled, but did not answer.  She knew from just that smile, that I did have everything to do with it.  Not that I would tell her, but I offered my own maid a hefty bonus to straighten and clean her tiny apartment.  Leandra [I just love saying that name] reacted in a way I was unprepared for.  She jumped up and threw her arms around my neck and hugged me fiercely.  I wrapped my arms around her waist to hold her steady.  Her body molded to mine in such perfection I thought I might cry.  The feel of her breasts pressed into the muscles of my chest through our clothing was divinely sensuous.  I'm afraid I couldn't stop myself from running one hand up her back to cup her neck as she hugged me.  I even twisted her silky hair between my fingers.  It was like heaven.  _

_When she quieted and pulled back slightly, our eyes locked for a moment.  She was embarrassed by her actions and yet, I could read in her expression that she felt the same electricity between us that I felt.  She began to apologize for her actions, but I couldn't bear to hear her apologize for something that I took such delight in.  Instead, I brought my lips to within a breath of hers and shushed her.  Her head tilted as if she questioned my move and I took the opportunity to touch my lips to hers.  I tell you, her lips are a soft as a rose petal.  It was not my intention of making any further advances on her, but to touch her lips was a temptation that I could no longer ignore. _

_I felt as well as heard her gasp when our lips touched.  With my hand still cupping her neck, she had little recourse but to remain as she was.  And when I made no further attempt to make the kiss more than just that slight touch, it was she who made the next move.  She tilted her head further, allowing my lips to slant over hers and I felt her lips part beneath mine.  I could not hold back; the feeling was such as I've never felt.  A kiss is just a kiss, eh?  No, not so with sweet Leandra.  My lips slid over hers deliciously.  When she sucked my bottom lip into her mouth, I moaned loudly.  God, the feel of her!  My hand left her neck and roamed her back while I still held her off the ground.  I could hold back no longer; my tongue moved past her parted lips to enter the sweet chamber of her mouth.  It was as I had imagined...a well of the sweetest nectar.  I was lost in the exotic taste of her...like a pomegranate, she tasted. She held no protest while I tasted of her, delved into every inch of her mouth, teased and touched her tongue.  Her lusty moans were more than indication that she felt what I felt; tasted what I tasted.  _

_It was the sound of a passerby that broke our kiss.  The opened door had been forgotten.  Leandra pulled away, embarrassed, and indicated that I put her down.  Reluctantly, I did.  She closed the door and stood nervously after our brief encounter.  It was then I asked her the question that I had been dying to since I picked her up at the hotel.  "Would you like to spend some time at The House Laconte?"  She had looked perplexed until she realized I meant the estate where my family produces an excellent bottle of champagne.  She insisted that bringing a stranger to my family's home was quite an imposition and she would not hear of it.  I grinned and told her my parents were expecting us this evening.  That is, if she would agree to travel with me to their estate just outside of Epernay.  I went on to assure her that it was a festive time for my family.  The first day of harvest was near and there was always a large celebration for the workers and their family as well as the owners.  A time of festivity that is to be shared with friends as well.  "You are my friend, Leandra?" I asked her.   "Of course, Antoine," she replied shyly.  It did not escape my attention that her tongue nervously darted out to wet her lips.  I ached to kiss her again, but did not want to rush her.  It took a few more minutes to convince her my parents would accept her with open arms and she finally agreed to travel to my family's home._

_I then left her to pack while I went to purchase a few things for our drive.  It was approximately one hundred kilometers from Paris to Epernay.  It is not a difficult or too lengthy a journey, and there is a special place midway that I wanted to take Leandra.  I returned to her within the hour and she was ready and waiting for me.  We were on our way within minutes and Leandra asked me many questions about my family during the drive.  I told her about my mother and father and their incredible love for each other and their children.  And my little sister, who gives me nothing but grief that I am away from the family for such long lengths of time.  That brought Leandra to the dreaded question of why I am apart from my family.  Thankfully that was when we came upon the spot I wanted to take her.  _

_I pulled the car off the main road and drove down a winding dirt road and stopped the vehicle near a small stream.  The water flowed rapidly although the stream was shallow.  On either side were large patches of natural grass surrounded by blooming wildflowers.  I glanced at Leandra who watched me intently.  Her eyes danced with excitement and just a hint of mistrust.  I grinned at her as I opened the car door and slid out, popping the lever that opened the luggage compartment.  Her mistrust was understandable.  For all she knew I brought her here to do something unseemly.  But I knew once things were settled the mistrust would disappear and she would enjoy the scenery.  While I busied myself retrieving the basket and light blanket, I heard the passenger door open and close and saw Leandra wander over to the bank of the small stream.  She knelt down and dipped her hand into the cool water as it flowed by and from her profile I could see that dazzling smile again.  _

_She turned as I approached with basket and blanket in hand, she stood and took the blanket from me and helped me spread it under a nearby tree.  "How thoughtful," she commented.  The smile had not left her face and in the shadow of the tree with the sunlight peeking between the leaves and branches, she reminded me of a beautiful pixie from a fairytale.  I set the basket at the corner of the blanket and knelt beside her in the center.  Her eyes held mine for a time, expressing her appreciation for the picnic.  I reached over and gently touched her cheek and brushed a lock of hair from her face.  I told her how beautiful she looked and watched the blush enter her cheeks as she leaned to my touch and I thought how much I wanted her...no, it was more than that.  Needed her.  As if my life depended on her touch, the caress of her lips on my skin, the feel of her pressed under my body as we made love.  _

_She took my hand in hers and squeezed it gently before releasing it and making a move toward the basket.  I think she is afraid of her developing feelings for me and that things are moving too fast.  Yes, I think I am moving too fast.  I told her to sit still and reached for the basket.  Opening it, I handed her two wine goblets.  I smiled at her as I retrieved the corkscrew and a favorite bottle of merlot.  She questioned the fact that I purchased a label other than that of my family's and I laughed.  I informed her that the Laconte's had an appreciation for the many different wines, but no champagne matches the flavor of The House Laconte.  She smiled warmly as I poured the wine into each of the goblets.  While she held the goblets, I set out the few containers in the basket.  One was filled with chunks of freshly baked French bread.  A second contained various cheese spreads.  The third was filled with white and red grapes.  Nothing fancy, just a small snack to tide us over until we reached Epernay._

_Leaning carefree back against the tree, I accepted the wine she held out to me and lifted the glass to my lips.  It paused there as I watched her sip from her glass; her head tipping back slightly, exposing the tender flesh of her throat.  My gaze was held captivated by her slender throat as she swallowed the merlot, the sensuous path her muscles created as they worked the liquid along.  I could only imagine the feel of my lips softly pressed against that same flesh, traveling the same lines that my eyes followed.  Finally I tasted the liquid that slid past my lips, but the wine was the last thing I wanted to taste.  Why is it so difficult for me to keep my mind off the need to touch her? Kiss her?  Is this what happens to normal people or perhaps I am just losing my mind.  _

_My attention was diverted slightly from my wandering thoughts when Leandra shifted slightly toward me and set her glass aside.  I did the same before reaching for a small piece of bread and the tiny flat knife to spread a generous helping of cheese on the bread.  I smiled softly as I held the bread to her lips and waited for her to accept my offering.  My eyes held hers as her lips closed around the tidbit of food.  It did not escape my notice that she tried to take the food without touching my fingers.  Perhaps I was being too forward with the timid young lady.  That was my thought, so I pulled the container closer and handed her the knife.  _

_I can feel the smile on my lips as I write this.  When I thought I had offended Leandra that was when she surprised me.  She took the knife from my hand and our fingers touched.  The touch was brief and yet I felt it from my fingertips to my toes.  She took another sip from her glass, this one much larger, almost a gulp.  Maybe she was searching for courage.  She gingerly spread the cheese on the bread before timidly offering it up to my lips.  Again, our eyes locked in an almost heated, telling gaze.  I could see in her eyes she felt the electrical current between us, the curiosity to explore her feelings was easy to read.  When I opened my mouth to close around the bread, she gently popped it into my mouth, the tip of her finger followed it just enough to enter my mouth.  My lips closed around it softly, tenderly sucking her finger while she withdrew it.  The tip of her tongue darted out to wet her lips while she watched me chew the small piece of bread.  _

_Again she shifted her position until she sat beside me with less than two inches between our bodies and took another sip of her wine.  She set her glass aside and turned to me, at the same time she moved the containers aside.  She slid easily into my arms and rested her head on my shoulder.  Just as earlier in her apartment, it felt natural to hold her supple form against mine as I stroked her soft hair.  I whispered her name against her hair as she toyed with the collar of my shirt.  Hesitantly, she admitted to her unexplainable feelings for me.  She says they are unexplainable because she has no idea why in such a short time she could possibly become so enamored with someone, and yet, at the same time, she can't stop wanting to be held, touched or kissed by me.  My heart jumps still from her admission.  That she revealed her feelings was amazement in its own right.  That her feelings match mine has me astonished.  _

_Could it be that I, Antoine Laconte, a man hardened against love by his chosen former profession, has become lost in it?  No.  It just cannot be possible.  Yes, I admit that I am attracted to her in a way I have never been before.  But to love someone, does that not take time to develop?  It's not feasible that love can blossom this quickly.  I must be mad.  _

_You are expecting me to tell you that I made love to her under that tree, aren't you?  No, I did not.  I held her, she held me.  We fed each other and sat in silence and took in the beautiful scenery.  It was a magnificent afternoon just lounging within each other's arms, oblivious to the world around us.  _

_After leaving the small haven, it was not long before we reached the estate outside of Epernay.  I pointed out the vast vineyards on either side of the car and she gasped at the sight of my home when it came into view.  I think she wished she could have changed her mind about being here with me.  She said it was an intimidating home, but I assured her my parents kept it filled with love.  She smiled although she still appeared nervous.  The thought that I was bringing a woman home to meet my parents for the first time ever popped into my mind.  It was my turn to become nervous._

_And it was no surprise that Mère and Père and my sister Sophie greeted us immediately upon arrival.  Poor Leandra was swept up in a myriad of hugs and kisses and I distinctly heard the words "ma fille" from my mother and cringed hoping Leandra did not catch them in all the excitement.  There was one little thing I had not mentioned to sweet Leandra.  Because of my past, my father refused to allow any woman to accompany me to The House Laconte until such a time I had decided to change my life and marry.  Of course, that was the assumption they made when I telephoned to ask if I might bring her home to show her the vineyards where I had grown up. I went along with their assumption selfishly.  The vineyards are a quiet sanctuary, one where I could spend days getting to know this vision of loveliness without distraction or outside influences._

_After the initial whirlwind greetings, Sophie shuffled Leandra off to show her to the room she would be using while she visited.  Mère and Père ushered me to the study where they attempted to interrogate me about Leandra.  They were disappointed when I could tell them very little.  No matter, they said, they would come to know her while she stayed at the family home.  This is where I tell myself that I must find the courage to tell Leandra and my parents the truth.  First I will give them a day or two to get to know her.  And when they do, I feel sure they will become enchanted with her as well._

_The hour grows late. It is well past midnight and I can barely keep my eyes open.  There is little more I can tell you of this day.  We were kept occupied the rest of the day with my family and the evening meal.  Leandra was quiet for the most part throughout the evening, listening with intensity to the stories my mother insisted on telling of my childhood.  I could not keep my eyes off of her and many, many times when she looked into my eyes, I felt a desire unmatched in my own body and wholeheartedly mirrored within her eyes.  _

_Sophie walked with us to her room, so even if I had been tempted to act upon my desire for her, my sister made it impossible to try.  Leandra stood on tiptoes and kissed my cheek tenderly.  My heart cried out for more than just that slight contact.  I needed to feel her in my arms, kiss her deeply to taste the sweet nectar that can curb and at the same time increase my hunger for her. _

_With reluctance, I bid her and Sophie a goodnight and made my way to my room.  It is much as I left it all those years ago.  I will endeavor to sleep, knowing that sweet angel sleeps but the length of a corridor from me.  _

_Until tomorrow..._

Antoine opened the drawer to the nightstand and laid the journal inside.  Closing the drawer, he switched the bedside lamp off and sunk into the comfortable mattress.  He wasn't surprised when sleep did not immediately take him.  

*****__


	4. Love and Loss

*****

Settling back against his headboard, his pen in hand, Antoine flipped his journal open to the next blank page.  He determinedly focused his thoughts on the happenings of the day.  Sighing deeply, he put pen to paper.

_First, I must apologize for not taking the time to write my thoughts for the day out last night.  So much has happened in the last two days.  Both good and bad.  We shall start out with the good._

_Surprisingly, I awakened quite refreshed the next morning.  My evening was filled with pleasant dreams of Leandra.  Would you like to know what amazed me the most?  None of them were sexual, sensual perhaps, here and there, but for the most part, quite innocent.  A look here, a touch there.  Long walks and endless talks.  How odd, I had thought upon waking.  No sooner had my feet touched the floor then I was thinking of her, even after a full night of her constantly in my thoughts.  After a quick shower, I dressed and went in search of her.  _

_She sat with Sophie in the garden.  Mère apparently had served breakfast there.  She so loved her garden, almost as much as she and Père loved the vineyards.  "You slept late, dear brother," Sophie had greeted.   I smiled and kissed her cheek before moving to Leandra and taking her hand, urging her to stand.  The need to hold her was too great to ignore.  She stood readily and moved into my arms as if she were reading my thoughts.  Perhaps she felt the same need as I.  At that point, I was beyond analyzing it.  I just wanted to feel her body against mine.  She stood on tiptoe and wound her arms about my neck and just as our lips were about to meet, she whispered, "I missed you."  I thought I might die and go to heaven right then and there.  But if that were to happen, then I would miss the part where she molded herself against me as my hands roamed her back, bringing her as close to me as possible.  The kiss was slow, drugging, and I felt its heat over every inch of my body.  My tongue danced over her smooth, even teeth before entering her mouth to explore every inch.  I felt her quivering within my embrace as the kiss continued, gaining intensity.  _

_Only when Mère returned to the garden table and cleared her throat, did Leandra break away.  The blush had returned to her cheeks, perhaps she was embarrassed that she had been so forward in front of my family.  But the twinkle in Mère's eye showed only that she was enjoying our happiness and felt no disrespect.  _

_After a leisurely breakfast, I suggested a walk through the vineyards and Leandra seemed to jump at the chance.  Yes, an opportunity to be alone.  Just the two of us.  I made sure of that.  Before Sophie could suggest that she tag along, I took Leandra's hand and led her from the colorful gardens.  _

_Countless miles of vineyards, the smell of ripening grapes surrounding us, we walked under and around the vines that weaved throughout the trellises.  As we walked, we talked about our childhoods, our hopes, and our dreams.  She listened attentively as I spoke of the many years I spent roaming and frolicking the countryside with Sophie.  How we worked the vineyards with our parents, side by side.  _

_The hours flew by and it was nearing lunchtime, so I suggested we head back to the house.  Of course, that was when the heavens opened up and the rain began.  Laughing while we ran, I looked for one of the small lean-tos Père had placed in several locations throughout the vineyards.  They are just small cubbies used to get out of the weather and, thankfully, there was one nearby.  Père made sure fresh straw was laid every week, for just this kind of situation.  Diving under its protection, we escaped the rain, although we were both soaked to the skin.  _

_Wet skin and wet clothing combined with a slight chill in the air to cause Leandra to shiver.  I'm not sure if it was the need to warm her or just the sight of her lower lip quivering that caused me to pull her into my embrace.  She snuggled against me as if it was a natural thing to do.  Although we have been friends for just a short while, it **does** seem natural to hold her.  Not just hold her, but also kiss her.  And, of course, that was exactly what I did.  I love kissing her.  Gently, passionately, heatedly, hungrily, intensely, fervently, tenderly...it doesn't matter.  I would give anything to be able to kiss her for the rest of my life.  _

_I will not go into detail, but under that small lean-to, I touched the greatest passion I have ever had the opportunity to in my life.  Before Leandra, I had pleasured many women, but I had never made love to even one of them.  That all changed with her.  Making love.  Those words held new meaning with her.  It was all from love, I believe, at any rate. For her as well, there could be no other explanation.  _

_She is not the type of woman to lay with a man without it meaning something.  That was something she had expressed as we lay together afterward, basking in the afterglow of our euphoria.  She had grown silent, sullen.  When I asked her what was bothering her, she said she had never slept with a man after knowing him for such a short length of time.  Also, that before me, she had only two other lovers.  Neither relationship lasted for more than six months.  She was afraid she had given me the impression that she was loose.  If she only knew my past, she would not worry about me judging anyone, least of all her.  I was not ready to tell her about my sordid life, I was sure it would chase her away.  Instead, I held her closely and assured her that she was the purest soul I had ever had the fortune to meet.  I whispered softly, admitting my developing feelings for her.  Was it too soon?  No, I do not think so.  She had smiled through tears that slipped from the corners of her eyes, telling me she felt the same.  I think I now know what it is like to float on a cloud.  Yes, indeed, I do.  What was our reaction to the news of our feelings for each other, you ask?  We made love again.  Slowly, passionately, until we both cried out with its intensity.  _

_While we dressed, our clothing now dry, I told her something Mère had once shared with me.  She had confessed that she was positive that I had been conceived during a downpour such as what Leandra and I had just escaped from, possibly in the very lean-to that she and I had just made love.  Leandra had smiled charmingly and slid her arms around my waist.  She stood on tiptoe and kissed me tenderly.  She said it was an enchanting thought.  She found it rather romantic to think that while they worked together to grow their vineyard, they created something even more wonderful out of their love.  To think that she thought I was something wonderful is amazing.  She is amazing.  She has the power to make me feel things I can't remember ever feeling.  And, she makes me feel as if I am worthy of her affection, when I know, deep down, that I am not._

_We spent the remainder of the day helping the family with the details of the upcoming harvest festival.  It was going to be a grand party.  We lunched and, later, dined with the family.  It was surprising when everyone decided to retire fairly early.  It was as if the entire household was exhausted.  _

_As with the previous night, Sophie walked with us to Leandra's room.  Unlike the night before, I did not hesitate to sweep her into my arms and kiss her deeply.  We whispered a saddened goodnight to each other; neither of us wanted to part.  But after kissing Sophie's cheek, I headed off to my room, leaving the two of them at Leandra's door._

_Now I come to the reason I did not take the time to put my thoughts and the happenings of that day down in my journal.  As I settled into the bed, picking up my journal, I heard the door to my room open quietly.  Looking up, I found Leandra slipping through the small opening and then close the door behind her.  She smiled shyly as she padded across the room toward the bed.  Removing her robe, she revealed that underneath it she wore a white, floor length cotton nightgown that clung to her curves deliciously.  When she reached the side of the bed that I lay, she questioned me with her eyes as she draped her robe at the foot of the bed.  I smiled and set the journal aside and lifted the coverlet to reveal that I was perfectly naked underneath.  I'm not quite sure, but I do believe I saw her lick her lips just the slightest.  I chuckled softly, but that ended quickly when she reached down and grabbed the hem of her nightgown and lifted it over her head.  She hoisted herself up onto the bed and slid over me to lie beside me.  Oh yes, she slid over me sensually, very sensually.  _

_Yes, we made love again and again and yet again.  I can't get enough of her.  I've heard the term 'you complete me' used before, but now I know its true meaning.  I cannot seem to imagine making love to anyone other than Leandra ever again.  That, coming from the ultimate playboy [as Père has often times called me], is really saying something.  I am starting to think I have fallen in love with Leandra and, perhaps, she with me.  During our night of lovemaking, she called out my name [in a harsh, heated whisper, so as not to alert the entire household], speaking endearments and let slip the 'love' word once.  But, in the heat of passion, it is not uncommon for people to say something they don't mean.  So, although my hopes are high, I will not allow them to carry me away._

_I awakened the next morning to the feel of the softest of kisses pressed to my neck.  It was the most delightful feeling, waking with Leandra in my arms.  It was as if I'd stood over an enchanted well, tossed in a coin, and made the wish of my dreams.  Waking to find those sweet, angelic eyes gazing into mine can mean only that my wish had come true.  And if I'm still dreaming, please don't wake me; because, heaven help me, I have fallen in love with this delicate creature._

_She eased from the bed and donned her nightgown and robe.  I asked her to stay a little while longer, but she insisted that she should leave, that my parents would not find her behavior appropriate in their household.  I wanted to argue with her, but I knew as well as she, that my parents might take offense.  In the short time that Leandra had been under their roof, they had taken a liking to her and I did not wish to jeopardize that budding relationship._

_I watched her leave my room before I attempted to get up and around for the day.  Yesterday I had made arrangements to meet with the workers in the distillery.  Although I grew up learning all aspects of this business, if I realistically wanted to join my father in running it, I needed to relearn what I had forgotten._

_While I spent the better part of the day touring the facilities, speaking with and learning from the employees, Leandra spent the day with Sophie and Mère taking care of last minute details for the party.  Everyone was busy; not a body on the vast property was indolent.  You could literally feel the excitement building in the air.  Tomorrow's festivities would be energetic and full of life.  We were all looking forward to the opportunity to come together and have a great time.   _

_So, the day was going well, yes?  It seemed so, and then all hell broke loose.  After I returned to the house, I was heading down the hallway toward the stairs.  I was on my way to my room to clean up, get the 'dust' off me, so to speak.  I spotted Leandra coming down the stairs, reading a sheet of paper as she stepped slowly down each stair.  She wasn't aware of my presence yet.  She looked up suddenly when the voices of my parents carried from the study out into the hallway.  The house was extremely quiet, therefore, their voices carried farther than usual.  Mère had been saying something about how delighted she was to have Leandra in the house, whereas, Père was stating his reluctance to accept her.  He said he feared the woman was just another of his foolish son's playthings, another client who was throwing money at him for a cheap sexual thrill.  He amended that, saying his gigolo son lived expensively and, therefore, would charge expensively.  Mère protested, saying that Leandra was a sweet girl and he should not say such things.  Père countered by saying that a sweet girl would not be caught leaving his son's room during the early morning hours.  Apparently, Père must have seen Leandra leave my room this morning.  _

_It was then that Leandra released a shocked gasp and locked eyes with me.  "A gigolo?" she questioned painfully, realizing what my parents were discussing.  "You're a gigolo?"  She turned and ran up the stairs, not giving me a chance to explain.  My parents, having heard the commotion, came to the doorway to see Leandra fleeing, obviously upset.  Mère scolded Père harshly with a "are you happy now?"  I cast them both a stern look before I followed Leandra to her room.  Not surprisingly, the door was locked.  I could have easily obtained the key, but that would be unfair to Leandra.  I knocked until my knuckles screamed for relief, but she would not let me in.  I could hear her heart wrenching sobs, and, I'll be honest with you, I don't think I've ever felt so low in my life.  Not even when I was imprisoned briefly for my former profession did I feel this awful.  I realized then, it hurt me more for her to be unhappy because she meant more to me than I meant to myself.  What a realization.  Someone has come to mean more to me than anything or anyone else.  Taking into consideration my more than selfish past, that was quite an achievement.  _

_As if it were some kind of cosmic female comprehension, Sophie and Mère soon descended upon me, shooing me away from Leandra's room.  They had about the same amount of luck as I had, at first.  Sophie managed to coax the door open much later in the day and Leandra had requested to hire a vehicle to take her back to Paris.  She refused to be alone with me for even a minute; therefore, she would not go back with me.  I tell you, at this point, my heart is aching so badly, I want to rip it from my chest.  Jesus, if something so wonderful can be taken away so easily, I think my former lifestyle was one much easier to deal with.  _

_Leandra refused to come down to dinner, although I was not surprised.  I tried to talk to her through that damnable door, and explain that I was not the same man my father spoke of.  If she would just open the door and let me in, we could work everything out.  I would explain everything.  But she refused.  She said she had to wonder how much I was playing her, knowing that a man as handsome [and quite the stupid idiot, I might add] as I would never go for someone as plain as she.  Damn!  She had no earthly idea just how beautiful she truly was.  Not just on the outside, but her soul, her breathtakingly exquisite soul.  This was the ultimate price I was to pay for my frivolous lifestyle, finding love only to lose it due to my choices in the past.  No matter what I said, no assurances would persuade her to believe that I actually felt something for her, that I was not trying to use her, and that there was only one thing I wanted from her—her love.  _

_So here I sit, after a heartbreaking day of separation.  Isn't it odd that only after a few days, the woman hiding behind a bedroom door, just a few feet down the hall, has come to mean so much to me?  I find it so.  Damn love, damn my aching heart, and damn the notion that people could find happiness together.  It's a myth.  _

_Mère just stopped in to check in on me, and to tell me that she and Sophie had convinced Leandra to stay for the festival.  They had hopes that once she broke free of her room and saw me again that she would come around.  I don't hold those false hopes.  I know I've lost her, and I don't blame her for not wanting to see me.  I guess there's nothing left to do but see what tomorrow brings.  After the party, I will see to it that she gets safely home and I will not darken her door again._

With a tear in his eye, Antoine closed the journal and laid it in the drawer, shutting it slowly before reaching up to turn off the bedside lamp.  Once the room was cloaked in darkness, he sank down into the soft mattress and stared at the ceiling.  A loud groan escaped him, knowing sleep would not come easily.  He tossed the blanket aside and left the bed.  Grabbing his robe, he opened the door and made his way down to his father's study.  He needed a good, stiff drink.

* * *


	5. Festivals and Dreams

* * *

Sitting at the small desk in the bedroom of his family's home, Antoine opened his journal as he had almost every night for as far back as he could remember.  

_Where to start?  I want to start at the end, but then when I look back, I will have missed all that has happened.  And what if when that time comes, I can no longer remember the details of my life?  Of course, I don't like to think that would ever happen to **me**, but who knows?  Surely not this fool.  So, let me start from the time I opened my eyes this morning and my feet hit the floor.  _

_After not sleeping and having had a bit too much of the hard stuff to drink the previous night, I left my bedroom and headed for the bathroom without really seeing anything in my path.  A shower and a strong cup of coffee were the only things my body would allow my mind to dwell on.  I had never realized how long that damn hallway was before.  Finally, I made it to my destination and reached for the doorknob, only to have the door yanked open from the other side.  I stood there, staring into the soft purple depth of Leandra's beautiful eyes._

_It was like a knife in my heart that she wouldn't even speak to me.  The brief moment that she had looked upon me was a long enough time to know that just the sight of me made her sick.  She brushed by me without so much as a word, running down the hall to escape me as though I was the vilest creature on earth.  Well, wasn't I?  And Mère and Sophie had been wrong.  Seeing me made little difference to Leandra.  She still hated me._

_After a shower and two cups of strong coffee, I readied myself for the festival.  It was very early, but activity outside had already begun.  It would be rude if I did not make an appearance.  The people attending were not only those who work for my parents, but the majority of them have been lifelong friends.  I am actually looking forward to seeing them.  If only things were with Leandra as they were before my parent's argument._

_Making my way to the courtyard, I encountered a blur of activity.  Tables were set up in several areas and every one was covered end to end with a variety of food dishes.  To my right was an extremely large wooded vat.  I looked upon it with amusement, not quite believing they still performed that old custom.  A band was setting up at the far end of the courtyard.  Music would make the party lively.  _

_My breath caught in my throat when I spied Leandra some distance away.  She stood with Sophie and a few of her friends.  She looked so beautiful in the simple powder blue dress she wore.  Although the conversation appeared pleasant and even a little animated, Leandra did not appear as though her heart was in it.  Even through the distance, I could detect the pain in her lovely eyes._

_It was a dance of sorts, some bizarre two-step, or perverted waltz.  If I moved, she would move, and we circled the entire area without meeting once.    I suppose it was better that way, for her, anyway.  I wanted to haul her off to a quiet place and hold her until she surrendered.  How cavemanish of me, eh?_

_Hours passed, food was eaten, wine and champagne consumed.  The band played merrily and people danced in every part of the courtyard that did not contain a table or chair.  Mère and Père were having a grand time.  At this point, I must say that my jealousy was getting the better of me.  Leandra was highly sought after by the single men.  If it were a time that women carried dance cards, hers would be full.  And not one dance would be for me.  It literally tore my heart out to watch her dance with them.  The only thing that kept me from going insane was the look in her eyes. Although she appeared to be having the time of her life, it was not reflected in her amethyst eyes.  They were still shadowed in pain.  I saw that each and every time her eyes fell upon me.  She had danced six dances in rapid succession and it was about that time that Père announced it was time for the traditional stomping of the grapes.  _

_My eyes immediately sought Leandra and I was not surprised to see Sophie dragging her off to the oversized wooden vat.  Leandra, of course, had no idea of the tradition.  I moved closer to the vat and could hear Sophie explaining that **all** the single women joined in for the stomping of the first grapes of the season that were harvested.  Leandra protested, but Sophie insisted that it was tradition and if she refused, bad luck would fall upon that season's crop.  Leandra resigned herself to her fate and allowed the young boys who had hauled the enormous amounts of grapes to the vat to help her off with her sandals.  _

_I watched with fascination as she was helped into the vat.  Her eyes reflected her amusement as she stepped slowly, squashing the small rounded fruit beneath her feet.  Soon, she was laughing and giggling along with Sophie.  They held each other's hands as they jumped and stomped, laughed and danced.  It was as though through mashing the grapes, she had worked out her demons and she was free.  Free to do as she pleased.  If only that meant she could forgive me._

_As the next set of women stepped up to the vat to take the place of those who were leaving it, I moved even closer, with the intention of helping Leandra down.  However, I was thwarted when Philippe stepped up and swept her into his arms and carried her to a chair.  It was also tradition that a man who wished to spend the remainder of the festival with a woman who helped stomp the grapes would go to that woman and clean her feet of the sticky juice.  It seemed as though the tall, dark, and handsome Philippe wanted that distinction with my Leandra.  After settling Leandra, Philippe stood and went off to retrieve a bowl of water and a towel.  I didn't think I could watch any longer and as I turned to leave the courtyard, I felt something thrust into my midriff.  I looked down when I felt liquid sloshing onto my arms.  Water, in a large wooden bowl. I looked up into Père's amused eyes as he handed me a towel.  He nodded toward Leandra and gave me a gentle push.  That was all the encouragement I needed.  _

_Just as I neared her, I noticed a slight ruckus going on behind her.  Mère had somehow collided with Philippe, spilling the water from the bowl he held.  Mère was laughing helplessly, however, Philippe did not seem the least bit amused.  Too bad for him.  Leandra was looking down at her sticky feet when I approached and knelt before her.  I don't think she realized it was me, at least, not until I touched her.  When I lifted her foot and placed it into the bowl, she gasped slightly at the contact of my fingers.  I looked up into her eyes.  She sighed softly, but didn't pull away from me.  "I was a different man then, Leandra," I told her quietly.  She listened without speaking when I explained that although I had once sold myself to women, I was no longer in that game.  I told her how utterly sorry I was that she had been hurt and that she found out the way that she had.  I also explained to her that if she could find it in her to give me another chance, I would do my best to make it up to her.  After washing the grape juices from her feet, I dried them and helped her back into her sandals.  I stood, bringing her up with me.  For the longest moment, we just looked at each other, each trying to mentally read the other.  What I wouldn't give to know her thoughts at that moment, but the only thing she said to me was a polite thank you and then she disappeared into the house. _

_Of course, I followed her, but as it was the day before, she had closed herself off and hid behind her bedroom door.  When I called to her, she only said that it had been a busy, active day and she needed rest.  One other thing she did say.  She would be ready to leave for Paris in the morning._

_Leave.  She was going to leave.  I hated to think about it, but there was little I could do.  She had made up her mind and no matter what I might say, she could not forgive me for being the man I had once been.  As much as I might want to, I could not change my past.  If she could not accept it, then so be it.  I had no choice but to let her go._

_I helped close the party down, move furniture, and put things away.  The hour was very late and I was exhausted to the point that I could sleep no matter what weighed on my mind.  For that, I was grateful.  So tired, I entered my darkened room and did not bother with the light.  I stripped down to nothing and climbed into bed.  When I contacted the velvety smoothness of female skin, I was shocked, to say the least.  I reached for the bedside lamp and switched it on.  What I saw when the light came on was Leandra staring up at me, smiling invitingly, lying perfectly nude beneath the blankets.  She had come to me.  She wanted me.  Tears stung my eyes when she whispered three words.  "I love you."  Three words said it all and healed my soul.  I assured her that I loved her in return and that if she could find it in herself to give me the chance, I would spend the rest of my life proving it to her.  _

_If this has happened today, I'm sure you are wondering why I'm taking the time to write this now.  It has happened and at this moment, my beautiful Leandra is sleeping peacefully after hours of lovemaking.  I wanted to write this down while it was fresh in my mind, because I did not want to take the chance of forgetting and miss recording this wonderful day.  _

_I think my life began today.  I want to say that it will only get better.  I shall endeavor to learn and grow as I join the family business.  I pray that Leandra will also join the family...I can see her as my wife, something I've never given thought to before.  Perhaps, my life began that day at the Louvre.  Yes, I believe it did.  That was the day I began to dream.  Champagne Dreams._

His journal closed, he padded quietly back to his bed and slid between the sheets.  His ladylove snuggled against him, pillowing her head against his chest.  His arms enveloped her lovingly.  "Sweet dreams, Leandra," he whispered, before drifting off into his own sweet dreams.

~finis~


End file.
